How Much Stress can a Yogi Take? by JJ Gormley
This is a story of stress. A certain therapy derives from sharing pain, or as I'd prefer to think of it, joyful stress. My husband and I have shared in the excitement and tension of building a house in the country. It began in earnest over 18 months ago when we decided– and were blessed to be able–to do it right: hire an architect, influence the design, and find the right builder. Virtually everything went right. The stress kicked in when it came time to move.
Complications began in planning a rather complex set of moves. Not only were we moving to the country, but also into a new condo in Arlington, now referred to as the city. That meant making choices about what went here, what goes there, and what would not continue its life with us and would be donated. So, we promptly decided first to isolate the donations and move them into the garage. That we did successfully. We fared less successfully in getting a Kosovo Relief organization to pick up the garage's contents, which sat there for several weeks and was taken out in several van-loads weeks apart. But a good cause it was, so patience prevailed.The "big" moving day came in early June. Our furniture and household items had three destinations: country, condo, or Mom's. The only items moved in early June were those slated for the country. Our dream home was completed enough to move in, although a little problem about the well water created a diversion and stress–all is well now–pun intended. We kept the condo furniture and items slated for my Mom (who lives outside Richmond) in our Arlington home to help dress it up for its sale in mid-June.
The house sold quickly, and the purchasers wanted a quick settlement, which meant a nip and tuck race to see if the condo would be ready by a mid-July closing. No dice. Originally, the condo was supposed to be ready by late February. Now we were advised to figure on early August. Kala, the Indian goddess of time, certainly didn't appear to be on our side-or so it seemed at the moment.
Back to the drawing board. We were blessed with an offer from my sister to store furniture at their home in Centerville. And Virginia and Henry, who spend some of the summer in South Carolina, kindly offered their home for us to use when city business forced us out of the country. So, we had a plan to tide us over until August.
Of course, these several moves come as the studio, too, undergoes renovation and a move next door. I began to reflect on how I was handling all of the stress. I did not lose my temper with others, as I have in the past under even less stressful circumstances. I seemed to be coping patiently with the inevitable delays. For a moment, at least, it struck me that this yogi seemed to be benefiting greatly from her yoga practice.
But then it hit me: I could no longer remember the most commonplace little things, like what forward bends were associated with a Level 3 practice. I have always been a paragon of calmness in an otherwise chaotic world. Indeed, I seem to thrive on chaos, always enjoying the chance to bring order to otherwise maddening circumstances. I thought I was just fine through all the stress, but it was during my most peaceful moments, during my oasis time of teaching others yoga, when I was most affected by the stress.
Distinguishing left from right had always been my biggest lapse of memory. With multiple moves and studio renovations on my mind, I now seemed to be adding a much broader array of absentminded quips to my amnesic repertory. I found myself saying "shoulder" when I meant "elbow," or saying "in" when I should have said "out." Looking at my syllabus one day and seeing that I planned to teach Level 3 forward bends, I couldn't for the life of me recall which forward bends needed to be taught. I whispered to Enid, who was assisting me, and naturally she rattled them off effortlessly.
The light bulb's gone off! I now understand how increasing levels of stress ultimately get to me. I'm glad it's just my mind that forgets things as opposed to my mind that attacks things. In the grander scheme of things, temporary amnesia is preferable to temper tantrums. But if there was anything certain during this maddening summer, it was the stability and tranquility that yoga brought me no matter what the level of stress.